Techmaturgical Precision v2
by Revicious
Summary: (REWORKED) He was given an arcane crystal by Piltover, supposedly a source of unlimited power that could solve the urban city-state's ever growing problem: lack of energy. But words can be false and old friends betray. Will Jayce be able to overcome the challenges ahead of him? Meanwhile, Caitlyn is forced to tackle a series of attacks in Piltover, an epidemic, and a new foe.
1. CHAPTER 1:1

**A/N:**

**After more than a year, I've decided to re-launch this story, this time on another account (I forgot the password to the other one). I wrote ****_Techmaturgical Precision_**** in a time of unbalance in my life and never finished it due to internal struggles, even though I valiantly attempted to. Writing should always be something fun and relaxing but real-life issues and a hectic schedule broke me down. My inspiration disappeared and as I eventually felt that I had to force myself to write even a single sentence, I decided to stop and put it all on ice. Fortunately, things have finally turned for the better and I've matured and moved on. This time, I do intend to publish the whole story, albeit with slight alterations from its original draft.**

**For those of you who have no idea of what I'm mouthing about, please ignore the message above. This story is going to be about Jayce and his past, together with the appearances of Piltover's finest and a certain cyborg. Hope you'll enjoy reading.**

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><p><strong><span>CHAPTER 1:1<span>**

"…broadcasted all across Valoran! Now, let's move on to the regional weather! Cassie, how does it look in Piltover today?"

_Hmm...? Ah, the radio._

"Hey Brad, it seems absolutely amazing, I must say! Not a single cloud—"

He groaned and reached for a button on his end table. It took him three tries before his palm finally struck the rectangular touch-panel and the woman's annoyingly merry voice was abruptly cut off mid-sentence.

"Give me today's, Claire," grunted the brown-haired male to seemingly nobody as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"_The lady on the radio was quite correct, Piltover is going to be a very sunny city today. May I suggest that you dress in something extra light? And today you're having a meeting with the Sheriff at lunch as well as the regular scheduled event for tonight. Also, don't forget to pass by the Academy at four o'clock for retrieving of the package._"

The man yawned dramatically and stretched out his limbs, his knuckles brushing against the wooden headboard of his bed. "Ah yes… the Sheriff. When was I supposed to pick her up?"

"_The appointment was at 12:30. If you get up now, you'll be able to reach the station at 12:38. She knows you're usually late and probably won't scold you, but I would still suggest you to pick up a bouquet at Marcie's just for safety. If my memory recalls correctly, I daresay she fancies lilies._"

"Very amusing, Claire," he replied with a hint of sarcasm as he slid out from bed and raked a hand through his disheveled hair. Beneath the tousled tresses, a well-defined, almost perfectly symmetrical face appeared. A long, straight nose marked the center-point of the man's unarguably handsome face and a charming smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You're an artificial intelligence, you can't forget things."

"_Glad you think so._"

After taking a quick shower, the brown-haired man got dressed into a casual attire apt for the weather, sloppily made his hair somewhat appropriate and went on a hunt for his sunglasses. His apartment was anything but dirty but a copious amount of notebooks, blueprints, colorful memos and crumbled paper scraps brimmed over the garbage can, filled the bookshelves, littered the floor and heaped the even more humongous desk placed against the southern wall. Misshapen creations of assembled iron and jutting pieces of tubes balanced on a treacherously unsteady shelf next to an array of framed diplomas that clearly stated academic prowess. An empty coffee mug stood on the windowsill next to various sorts of plants and a narrow hallway decorated with a dated map of Valoran led west towards the tiny kitchen, the front door and the sparsely furnished bathroom. The walls and ceilings of the apartment were painted white and the floorboards were completely naked. The design of the rooms granted the messy home an illusion of being larger than it actually was and a sliding glass door connected the combined work and bedroom – the marginally largest room – to a rarely visited balcony that jutted awkwardly out from the building. Sunlight was hindered from seeping into the apartment by blinds and the scent of dried remnants of coffee, oil-soaked cloth and male aftershave lingered in the air.

With eyelids still heavy from sleep, the man was on the verge of resigning his mission amidst this jumbled chaos of turning sheets, lifting heavy piles of paper and sorting through files, when the AI finally decided to assist her creator.

"_Have you checked your pockets?_" asked the female voice dryly.

Having currently been searching through his cabinets, the brown-haired man stormed out of his kitchen and went to grab his jacket that hung from a knob in the vestibule.

"Found them," the man answered and triumphantly held up the sunglasses. "Thanks for the quick save."

"_You're welcome_."

As in a hurry as he was, he almost failed to spot the three letters lying on the dusty doormat. Deciding against his AI's advice, the man crouched down and gathered them into his hands before reading from who and where they came from. The first one was sent from a minor science organization he did not recognize and he quickly decided to ignore it. The second letter was about his bills and he sighed heavily.

_Wasn't the government supposed to deal with this now since I am working for them? Strange_, he thought and threw the letter over his shoulder as well. _I guess I'll have to make a call._

"_You've lost approximately fifteen minutes trying to find your way out of the shower. Shall I convey a message to Miss Caitlyn and tell her that you won't be able to make it to lunch?_"

The brown-haired man shook his head and got to his feet. "No, just tell her that I was slightly preoccupied this morning," he said.

"_With dreaming about her?_" the AI wondered sarcastically. "_Or with your vanity?_"

"The former, please," he replied earnestly as he examined the last envelope.

"_I'll be on it immediately. Anything else you'd have me do?_"

He opened his mouth to answer but closed it just as quickly as he read the name of the final letter's sender. He quickly tore up the letter and skimmed through the note inside of it, his eyes widening with each few sentence.

"_Jayce?_" Claire called with a hint of worry in her usually cynical voice. "_Are you there? I never sensed you leaving—_"

"I'm here," the male interrupted and rose up. "Just a bit startled. Did you know that Victor wanted to meet me? He's claiming here in crappy scribbles that you blocked all his calls."

The AI's answer came almost immediately, as if prepared, and although it would have raised suspicion had she been human, Jayce knew that Claire wouldn't lie. He trusted her that much.

"_My program warned that his messages weren't safe and when I tracked them back to his circuit, I read that the location of it was in Noxus," _explained Claire in a neutral tone._ "I won't accept anything from there, you made sure of it._"

Jayce nodded thoughtfully and put the letter on his low shoe rack. He then called the AI goodbye, placed his shades on his nose and strolled out of his apartment, locking the door behind him. He had a whole lot to do according to his AI's agenda and since he had already slept away most of the time as well as foolishly search for his sneaky sunglasses, Jayce decided to be a bit adventurous for the day. Hopefully, he wouldn't run into the same problems as the last time he had tried out one of his most successful inventions. Something he only could use within the city.

Piltover, globally known perhaps more as the City of Progress, was the most advanced and modern city-state of whole Runeterra and led the world's most intricate research on ecological and recyclable energy. Ever since the nation underwent drastic changes within the military a decade ago, the life quality of its denizens had rocketed sky-high and the average lifespan of a Piltoveran was nowadays seventy-five years. With a booming economical growth that only increased exponentially by each year, mostly due to the incredible rich integration, international trading and astonishingly low crime rate, and an unemployment rate of just above three-point-seven percent, Piltover could be proud to call itself the most productive city-state as well. Almost every citizen had experienced an advanced level of education and worked within business, medicine, archeology or techmaturgy. The city was the ideal place for aspiring academics, inventors and scientists since large sums of the tax money went for the funding of enormous, annual science conventions, education, commercial transportation and public health. The main body, meaning the governmental buildings and most of the commercial and residential areas, of Piltover was situated upon a small mountain while the industrial and the lower-class quarters fanned out to the widely-spread marsh that surrounded the gigantic city. The still not fully explored fenland powered the city with its large natural resources, although that was becoming a growing and rather alarming issue as of late.

_I really hope the Academy has something that'll lead me to greatness, _he thought as he took the stairs down to the underground level. His apartment was on the third floor but he preferred heading down with his own two legs instead of using the elevator. _Piltover is staring to lose its lead against Zaun but this afternoon, I'm going to be given the potential key of solution. This could be my grand opportunity—my breakthrough—and I'll finally be recognized for my profession._

Jayce unlocked the door to the underground parking lot and paced through the parallel rows of cars lining the walls by his sides. His nostrils filled with the characteristic smell of rubber, dirt and polished metal. The air was cool down there and he was alone, his shoes thudding softly against the concrete floor.

_I wonder what Victor wants_, he mused as he scratched his jaw, his light blue eyes scanning leisurely the hoods of the cars. _He's not exactly someone who visits for old time's sake... though it's been a while since we last met. Maybe I am wrong and all he wants is some basic, human company._

Jayce finally reached the end of the basement floor and grinned, seeing his vehicle. It was a slim creation of steel and electricity, similar to the shape of a motorbike, that he had made completely on his own. The design was kept simple with a black leather seat and silver details and the dark, metallic frame was tinted in a deep blue hue. Instead of using tires and an engine fueled by Piltoveran Ecologic Gas, he had installed two strong, electromagnetic sensors shaped as rotatable cylinders that made the machine hover a couple of inches above the ground, even with his and another passenger's weight, when activated. The handmade vehicle was practical whenever he needed to be somewhere quickly within city since almost every street was made of a mixture with a high percentage of magnetic raw materials, but outside Piltover's boundaries, the bike-like machine's impressive speed and maneuverability lost all its usefulness. Jayce had yet to figure out a means to amend the problem, since he didn't want to tamper with either its size or its cheap function of driving on electricity, and frankly didn't think he would come up with a solution anytime soon. His dear creation would have to suffice for simple city trips.

As he at last arrived at the parking lot outside the police station with a fresh bouquet of ruffled-up lilies in his right hand and a helmet tucked underneath his left arm, Jayce was greeted by the familiar sound of the only two—human—women in his life and their incessant arguing. Even though their bickering could drive him crazy at times—once, they actually drew weapons at each other since what Caitlyn thought was "viola" was purple for Vi—it was obvious for any, albeit patient, observer that the two women cared fondly about the other and made a great team. He had been hesitant at first when Caitlyn told him about her loud partner, afraid that Vi might hurt or betray her, but she ignored his warnings and it seemed now later that he had been wrong about thinking bad about the pink-haired woman. He remembered it as if it had been yesterday, when every newspaper in Piltover reported the shocking facts that the city's most adored detective decided to let an ex-criminal become her partner. It had been outrageous, borderline scandalous, but the results that brew from the former thug could not be brushed lightly aside. The already low crime rate plunged drastically with the... _unique_ addition to the police force and citizens and government officials eventually had to drop their complaints. Vi even became revered in some cases and a symbol of how far even a former delinquent could reach if he or she might only struggle for it.

"_Excuse_ me?"

Jayce rolled his eyes when he saw a book fly out of the open window. "Ladies?" he tried as his eyes sceptically scrutinized the window, searching for more potential debris that could harm him when he passed.

"Oh come on! What's the damn problem? Are you on your monthly?" exclaimed a brutally sincere voice.

There was a loud groan. "Vi, you're well aware what I'm talking about," a lower voice said between gritting teeth. A warm feeling filled Jayce's chest and he smiled in recognition as he hastily strode past the window. "You cannot throw a _table_ at the suspect. He was gravely wounded and even lost consciousness... I just bloody ordered it!"

"He didn't want to talk no matter how much you coaxed with him! What the fuck do you suggest I should have done? Offered more tea? Biscuits?" Someone snorted. "He begged for it."

Jayce rounded the corner of the building from where he had come from and walked towards the entrance of Caitlyn's secondary home. Or well, technically, she spent more time here than he did at her apartment, so the police station probably counted more as her primary lodging.

"Sometimes, Vi, you're a real pain in the arse. I hope you at least had the decency to apologize to him afterward."

"Are you out of your mind? I—" The owner of the voice immediately cut herself off.

"What precisely did you do?" Every word rang with heavy, threatening enunciation.

A chuckle. "Don't sound like that, cupcake; you know I always aim at doing my best."

"_Vi_."

Jayce stepped into the brick building and felt the soothing breeze of an air conditioner brush against his hair and neck. He ducked under a loose panel dangling from the lobby ceiling and surveyed the void station with surprise.

_Ah, I guess that most of them are on their summer vacation_, he thought as he passed through hollow seats and blank tables. _Typical Caitlyn; takes the responsibility for every case in Piltover alone during these two relatively calm weeks. Or well, she has Vi—and me._

His relationship with the famous Sheriff was complicated but at the same time way too simple; they… weren't exactly a normal couple to say the least. He knew that Caitlyn didn't want anything permanent since she had told him "I'm married to my job", but his emotions for her were more than just of a friend's. Whenever she would fall asleep in his arms, Jayce would just close his eyes, imagining that Caitlyn felt something for him. Something strong. And that was mere illusion of course; the empty place next to him as he woke up was a constant reminder that she only saw them as mere fucking buddies.

His relationship with the infamous enforcer had started off rather complex, although not in the same way. During the first, awkward part of their acquaintanceship, Jayce had thought she was interested in him but when he attempted to confront her about it, she had always put on her humongous gauntlets and mumbled something about "gotta get my fists working", making him back off. That had initially given him the impression of being a very violent character, but as time slid past and he got to know her better and better, he realized that she was a very good person who always cared for the people around her. They had grown closer during the years and he nowadays considered her as one of his closest friends. Not that he had many. And he was still wary about her aggressive streak...

"…going to get sued. Do you hear that, Vi? _Sued_."

"Caitlyn darling, don't you worry. I'm relying on _you_ to testify my complete innocence."

Jayce opened the door to the Sheriff of Piltover's office and knocked only afterward. Vi instantly glanced up at him and gave him a broad leer as she waved her unarmed hand.

"'Sup, handsome," she greeted and sprung out of Caitlyn's chair. She pointed at her partner and mouthed: _monthly bleeding period has initiated. Be careful._

"Oh, I didn't hear you."

Caitlyn got off her desk and glanced at him over her shoulder. Her beautiful, green-blue eyes locked on the flowers he was holding and her pink lips drew into a happy smile.

"You really didn't have to," she said, a glimmer lighting up her eyes. "They'll probably wither in a couple of days, but thanks. Shall we take our leave?"

"Certainly," he replied and handed her the lilies. "To the usual place?"

She put the bouquet in a vase that Vi made a big gesture at giving her and turned back to Jayce.

"To the usual," she confirmed and opened a bottle of water resting on her desk, pouring the last of its contents in the vase. "You'll drive, right?"


	2. CHAPTER 1:2

**A/N:**

**Happy holidays!**

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><p><span><strong>CHAPTER 1:2<strong>

"So..."

"Spring water, spinach and cherry tomatoes salad, two toasted sandwiches with cheddar cheese and steamed turkey—skip the onion and the pepper, as well as the pickles—and a fruit salad with no red or green things. The contents of the fruit salad should be chopped into small, about one-inch-one cubes. Thank you."

Their waitress hustled to write down Caitlyn's order, her tiny bull-pen dancing frantically across her hand-sized notepad, then turned to Jayce. He raised his eyebrows at the Sheriff before skimming through the menu.

"Any recommendations?" he asked as he gave the young waitress a small smile. Jayce didn't recognize her face even as a long-time guest at Aurora, and guessed that this was her first week or so at work. _Poor girl got Caitlyn, _he thought in amusement. "I trust you'll choose something good for me. Don't mind the price." He handed her the menu.

The waitress blushed and scurried away after stammering something inaudible.

"You're much too kind, Jayce. You should have simply given her your regular order."

Jayce shrugged and met Caitlyn's gaze.

"Might just be _you _who's too harsh on people," he replied and smiled when she snorted lightly. "How was today?" he wondered.

"Fine, just fine." Caitlyn propped her elbows on the table and lowered her heart-shaped face into the cup of her hands. "It's just Vi... we've really been getting at each other recently. She attacked a suspect with a table recently and—"

"Yeah, I heard," Jayce interrupted, his smile broadening. "I actually heard the two of you even from my place."

Caitlyn rolled her beautiful, teal-colored eyes and Jayce felt his heart tighten. _If she only knew how I truly feel about her. But I can't tell her since I don't want to lose what little we have. Call me a coward, but I just _can't_._

"Ha-_ha_, very funny." She sighed and traced invisible patterns on the table surface with a slender finger. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong. And I _hate_ myself for wanting to fire Vi whenever she does something... something reckless like this. We lost the case and I heard that the man is at a hospital now, his treatment being paid by the government."

Jayce reached for Caitlyn over the table. He took her hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly.

"We all know Vi has a bit of a temper." Jayce gave Caitlyn a pointed look as she opened her mouth to interject. Most likely, in a protest. After a long look, she pursed her lips and he continued. "And there's nothing you can do about it. That's just who she is."

When Caitlyn remained silent, Jayce drew back from her and draped his arm over the back of his chair. "Do you remember what you promised me when we first started doing this?" he asked with an amused quirk of his brow.

"'Keep work and you apart'," she quoted herself and scoffed. "Seems like I'm doing a great job holding onto that promise."

"Right," he agreed sarcastically. She laughed.

"Thanks for making me feel better." As if she just now realized she still wore it, Caitlyn swiftly took off her large hat in a graceful motion and hung it on her chair frame. "You somehow always manage to do that, remarkably enough."

The same waitress as earlier came back with their ordered food and drinks. She carefully put one overflowing tray of greenery and sandwiches in front of Caitlyn and placed a tray stacked with a single plate and a glass of lemonade in front of Jayce.

"Roasted chicken with Demacian walnuts and our chef's signature avocado sauce, served with baked potatoes and steamed vegetables," the girl quickly announced before she fled, her face flushing with color.

"I reckon she took the most expensive thing on the menu just to make more money," Caitlyn said as she scrutinized her fruit salad. "Or perhaps the cheapest dish, fearing you were short on cash." Her forehead smoothened and she pierced a cube with her fork.

"She left a note," Jayce replied and pulled out a folded piece of paper that had been tucked underneath his plate. "'It's on the house'," he read.

The Sheriff's neatly plucked eyebrows rose. "Or she paid it herself," she said before biting into an orange cube. "Ah, perfectly sweet. This is why I love Aurora; they always serve fresh fruit."

Placing the note on the table, Jayce nodded in response to Caitlyn's words. A part of him wanted to track down the waitress and insist on paying for his own meal, but he soon concluded that his action would only prove to make the girl embarrassed and uncomfortable. After a quick glance around him to see whether she was nearby, which she wasn't, he grabbed his cutlery and began eating as well.

"What was it that you wanted to talk about?" Caitlyn asked.

Jayce swallowed a piece of chicken before answering.

"Did you hear about what Ezreal brought home from one of his recent subterranean expeditions down south?"

"That thing they've been secretly working on at the Academy?" Caitlyn frowned. "How do _you _know about that? That's highly confidential materiel. Civilians aren't supposed to know anything about it."

"Well," he began with a smirk. "I've been assigned to handle the matter privately. I received a letter a week ago from some statesman demanding my presence at a meeting due yesterday." His smile widened into a grin. "Couple of minutes of talking, two paper-signings and boom: I'm now officially an employee for the Government of Piltover."

Eyes rounding, Caitlyn blurted a surprised but happy, "Congratulations!"

Jayce immediately averted his gaze, not at all having anticipated her sudden joy. A simple nod would have sufficed. At least, that was the kind of stern reaction he had learned to anticipate from the Sheriff.

"No, _really_," she said amiably as she tapped a finger against his knuckles. "This is wonderful news. I knew you needed a new job since the funds you had earned for your last invention were running out. Great going."

He rubbed the nape of his neck and peered about. They were almost the only guests in the small restaurant but Jayce still felt a bit shy. It wasn't usually like Caitlyn to praise anyone, he knew.

_I must have really impressed her._

"Thanks," he mumbled.

Caitlyn nodded curtly. There it was, the official nod. He could finally relax.

A yawn ambushed him and Jayce let out a tired moan. His fatigue didn't surprise him since, after all, he'd barely gotten any rest that night. He had dozed off at dawn, too busy reading reports and documents about the mysterious object. Also, his unhealthy habit of drinking four cups of coffee a day hardly lengthened his sleeping hours.

"I'll retrieve the artifact later this afternoon." Jayce hesitated and eyed the Sheriff. "Are you busy tonight?"

Caitlyn lowered her glass and gave him a foxy smirk, her blue-green eyes glinting with knowing. "Now I am. I'll be at your door after eight."

His heart fluttered at her words. "Great," he said.

"Don't forget to buy something sweet."

"Certainly."

While they finished their meals, the two of them continued to talk casually. Jayce soon noticed that Caitlyn carefully chose subject as unrelated to work as possible and smiled for himself; he had always found it amusing to inwardly count how many minutes passed before she stumbled into rantings about the office and Vi again. Time bled past without Caitlyn making a mistake, however, and Jayce stifled several more yawns.

"I think you need some sleep," Caitlyn said dryly, though amusement brightened her tone. She glanced at her wristwatch and frowned. "And I'm going to be late to the office again. Thanks to _you_."

He shrugged as he waved for the nearest waiter. "Can't blame me for being irresistible," he said with a carefree grin. "Need a ride back?"

"Please."

They headed off after Caitlyn paid for her meal. Jayce suspected her unwillingness to let him pay for her arose from a deeply embedded thought that it would change the status of their regular lunches to dates—and Caitlyn simply didn't "do" dates—although he'd been wise enough never to mention that particular notion out loud. Outside the police station, he managed a peck on Caitlyn's cheek before she glared at him and hurried inside. Jayce glanced after her shrinking shape for a second or two, grimly contemplating his difficult situation with the Sheriff, then left toward the world famous Yordle Academy of Science and Progress—where he himself had attended once.

_The students are probably also on summer vacation_, Jayce thought with an involuntary smile. He could still remember the five years he had spent pent up in the Academy's maze-like library, nose buried in a dusty old tome or a fat folder brimming with blueprints, and the different classrooms crammed with textbooks, miniature models, tools and often eccentric but always kind teachers. The scent of grease, explosives, acid substances, freshly sawed-through wooden planks and steel bars was as clear in his mind as the name of his mother, and Jayce had always associated those characteristic smells with the fragrance of success.

His smile faded as his reflection of the past led him elsewhere, away from the happiness in the Academy. The thought of his mother brought up the subject of his family and Jayce sighed. His parents, Priscilla and Dean Treston, had lived in Demacia for as long as he could remember, their biggest dream being to be able to establish a science university and teach out techmaturgy for the Demacian citizens. Unfortunately, they'd yet to succeed wooing the Demacian King and Council. Not too surprising, considering how war-hungry and military indoctrinated the city-state was, Jayce thought.

He had a younger sister as well: Annie Treston, an ever-smiling girl with a devilish gambling reputation. She was somewhat of a mild family disgrace, at least according to his parents, since she liked to spend—waste—money and time on life's pleasures; she always sought out new places to visit, hated to stay at one and the same place for longer periods of time and had never had a decent work anywhere. Annie didn't even have a degree in anything, a fact that abhorred their parents—Priscilla in particular. Family dinners were rarely a pleasant experience.

Veering out of the crowded lane, Jayce speedily maneuvered his vehicle through the almost deserted premises of the prestigious college. He didn't slow until he arrived outside the enormous double doors indicating the main entrance of the largest building, where he killed the engine of his bike-like creation.

Jayce grimaced. He _really_ needed to come up with a better name for his invention. "Bike-like creation" held absolutely zero suave.

"Are you Jayce Treston?"

Jayce took off his helmet and instinctively raked a hand through his damp hair. A yordle with shaded, red-rimmed goggles and a deceptively dark voice came strolling down the flight of stone stairs leading up to the entrance. His tiny hands surrounded an even tinier box and Jayce's attention immediately fixed upon the object.

"The one and only," he replied with a casual smile. "Is that...?"

The dark-haired—or was it skinned? Jayce didn't know how the yordles regarded themselves; if he'd ever make good friends with one, he'd have to ask—yordle inspected Jayce's vehicle with apparent interest and nodded several times. More in appreciation for his ride than in response to his question, Jayce surmised.

"I need to see a paper," grunted the yordle as he reached the foot of the stairs. He seemed enchanted by Jayce's bike and couldn't tear his gaze away from the creation. "Very nice," he even muttered under his breath. "The lines, the handling, the material... How absolutely ingenious."

Jayce was too flattered by the yordle's evident admiration for his handiwork to crack an indecent joke about the latter staring at something below his waist, though it _was_ rather tempting. He bit back a smile and merely showed the slight yordle the letter he had had tucked in the inner chest pocket of his jacket.

Having browsed through the sheet twice, the yordle returned the letter as well as handed Jayce the small box. Mystical, asymmetrical runes—etched into the otherwise unmarred material as if by a blunt tool—wound across the dark surface of the object that also gleamed underneath the sunlight. Was it made out of some sort of metal?

The tiny box was much heavier than Jayce had initially presumed and he almost dropped it in surprise. Fortunately, he managed to retain his grip of the detailed, almost black cover—that was when he felt something _pulsating_ against his palms and fingers. It was softer and quieter than the throbbing of a heart, yet firmer and struck the box haphazardly; he could almost imagine something trying to fight its way out of the box.

"Is this the artifact that Ezreal found in the south?" Jayce asked. He wanted to make sure that the yordle wasn't sending him some imprisoned spirit or angry exotic animal.

The yordle nodded eagerly, glad, perhaps, to lose the weight of the strange box. Jayce gently raised it to his ear and shook the object, his focus growing distant as he concentrated.

Something shuffled inside of the box and thudded from wall to wall. The odd, pulsating sensation emanating from the exterior did not seem to have been affected by the box innards being handled roughly. Nothing living stirred.

"I wish you luck," said the yordle after having watched Jayce carefully place the box into a storage compartment beneath his seat. "Every professor in the Academy was given a chance to crack the box's code. Everyone failed, me included." The yordle grunted at this, seemingly disappointed with his failure. "I hope you know what you're doing. A couple of my colleagues were gravely injured when they resorted to... somewhat violent measures in an attempt to open the box."

"I read that in the reports you guys sent me," Jayce said solemnly. "I hope they get well soon."

The yordle nodded once and gave Jayce a reassuring pat on his hip. "As do I. Be careful."

"I appreciate your concern. Thank you." Jayce swung a leg over his vehicle and plopped on his helmet. "I'll take my leave."

The yordle nodded again, then turned around to climb the stairs.

_Not much of a talker_, Jayce thought as he ignited the engine. _But seems a nice guy nonetheless. I really _do _hope the other professors will be all right._

Before he headed back to his apartment, Jayce stopped at a nearby grocery store to buy a bag of dark chocolate pralines for Caitlyn and the eventful evening that would come. They were her favorite—he wasn't and had never been too fond of sweets—and he tossed them carefully into the empty fruit bowl decorating the wooden kitchen isle as he arrived home.

Letting out a loud, exhausted groan that Claire stated sounded like that of a wounded mountain dire bear, Jayce decided to take a nap. Caitlyn would eventually come waking him if not Claire managed to disturb his sleep first. He was slipping into the realm of dreams already before he lay down in his bed, and peaceful oblivion swallowed him as soon as his head came to rest onto his pillow, the dark, rune-engraved box resting on his desk.


End file.
